


I've Done A Lot of Things Wrong (Loving You Being One)

by benadrill



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Songfic, and it all went downhill from there, i honestly don't know where that came from though, jaskier's a little bit bossy and geralt says 'yes sir', then i wrote 'jaskier commanded', this was just supposed to be an angsty make-up fic, would you believe i've actually never written a songfic before, yen's only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benadrill/pseuds/benadrill
Summary: When they finally reunite, Jaskier isn’t angry.There’s no rage, no bitterness, no belligerent words for him, and that, Geralt thinks, is the worst part of this whole ordeal.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 311





	I've Done A Lot of Things Wrong (Loving You Being One)

It isn’t until a few days after the incident at the mountain that the gravity of what happened fully hits Jaskier. 

He’s  _ alone,  _ for good this time. Geralt isn’t coming back to him. 

He won’t turn around and see a shock of snow white hair. There won’t be any piercing golden eyes glaring at him when he just  _ refuses  _ to shut up. No one will give him a lighthearted scoff in response to his exaggerated tales. 

And the realization  _ hurts _ .

He, ( _ naively, I suppose _ , he thought), had assumed that after decades of traveling together, it would take more than a woman and an argument to sever the bond they had created.

_ But it wasn't just that, was it?  _

No… as much as he hated to admit it, Geralt did have a point.

He couldn’t  _ really  _ blame Geralt for his feelings. He was mad at him, sure, but he didn’t blame him. He was annoyed that Geralt still bottled up his emotions until they all poured out in an angry fit when he should  _ know _ by now that he could talk to _ him _ at least. He was frustrated that no one told him that his fight with Yennefer was more than a silly lovers’ quarrel. He was terribly, achingly exhausted, imagining life without the White Wolf he had grown to love. But in spite of himself, he didn’t  _ blame  _ the witcher.

Jaskier sighed, and took a minute to investigate his surroundings. He had been traveling on foot since leaving Geralt, and he had to admit that he had covered an impressive amount of land on his own. He was well beyond the base of the mountain now, but had taken a less-traveled path than the one he had arrived on in an attempt to avoid Geralt. It wasn’t entirely unnavigable, but it certainly didn’t make for an easy journey. Maybe it was foolish and immature, but he wasn’t quite ready to face the other man yet.

He gazed up at the sky.  _ Dark clouds,  _ he thought. _ Shit. _ It was going to rain. Jaskier had hoped for a few more hours of brooding in the forest. He was overdramatic, he could admit, but he was no idiot. He would have to make his way to the nearest town if he didn’t want to get caught in the downpour.

* * *

Geralt didn't think himself to be the type of person to drown their sorrows in booze. He also didn't think himself to be the type of person who lashed out at their only friend for no good reason. These past few days were just  _ full  _ of surprises, weren't they?

Regardless of the type of person Geralt did or did not think he was, he still found himself hunched over the counter of some dingy little tavern, sipping his way through an ale. He'd lost track of how many he'd had, but if the fuzziness in his head was anything to go by, it was entirely too many (it took quite a bit to get a witcher drunk, and even by witcher standards, Geralt was no lightweight).

He knew, vaguely, that this was a bad idea. That he would owe more than he could probably afford in the morning. That he would likely end up passed out in a puddle of his own sick if he kept this up. That the damage had already been done, and no amount of numbing substances could change the fact that he had horribly and irreversibly fucked up.

Jaskier, the one friend he had other than Roach, would never want him back. 

He wanted to apologize. _ Gods _ , he wanted to apologize, but no matter how many times he tried to come up with what to say, nothing seemed to be enough. He was about to give up entirely, decide that there was simply no way to redeem himself, when the door to the tavern swung open, letting in a gust of cold, wet air and a man, soaked to the bone.

_ Fuck. _ Even dulled by rainwater and dirt, Geralt would recognize that scent anywhere.  _ Jaskier. _

He wanted to hide his face, shrink down as far as he could, and not be seen by Jaskier or anyone else for that matter. Maybe the amount of alcohol he’d consumed was what kept him from turning around and looking anyways. 

Gods, Jaskier looked like  _ shit _ , or at least as shitty as someone like Jaskier was capable of looking (which somehow always ended up being more ‘sexily disheveled’ than actually  _ bad _ ). He was in no place to judge, Geralt supposed, since he couldn’t imagine that he looked any better. 

Meeting the bard’s eyes, he cleared his throat. “Jaskier,” he nodded.

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice was cold. Detached. And Geralt  _ hated _ it. “I assume you’re staying here for the night as well?”

_ No _ , he wanted to say. In all honesty, he wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible. He could hardly stand to stay in one place as it was and he hadn’t anticipated seeing Jaskier again so soon.  _ I should have, though, _ he thought.  _ The only town for miles, and I didn’t think Jaskier would end up here as well. Stupid. _ All he wanted to do was get out of this place, hop on Roach, and ride off into the night as he usually did instead of facing his problems, but with the weather as it was, that wasn’t really an option.

“I suppose,” he answered, finally.

“Hm. Well, I’ll be getting my room then. Good night, Geralt.” And with that, he was gone.

That was  _ it. _

Geralt didn’t know what he expected when they reunited, but he felt that it would be more than whatever  _ that _ just was.

Exasperated, he laid his head to rest on the counter.  _ Fuck _ , he thought.  _ I need another drink. _

* * *

The first thing Geralt noticed when he woke up was that he was neither in the bed he had paid for, nor was he on the ground outside. 

There was something… strange about it that Geralt couldn’t quite put his finger on. Usually, on the rare occasions that he got drunk, his bard would always make sure he made it either back in bed or to his horse… 

Oh... that was it, wasn’t it?

Jaskier (he wasn’t really  _ his _ bard anymore, was he?), wasn’t there to help him back up anymore. Or rather, he was there (he’d just come down to the dining area for breakfast, in fact), just not for  _ him. _

That’s the strangest thing about this whole scenario, Geralt thinks as Jaskier settles into a table in the opposite corner of the tavern to wait on his food, not even acknowledging the witcher’s presence. They’re in such close quarters, and yet, there’s a barrier between them. Some unspoken agreement to stay a safe distance from one another. Geralt could hardly bear it. 

Which is why, when Jaskier left to go about his usual daily business, Geralt trailed after him like a lost puppy.

As he bought some fruit from the market, Geralt was there, about twenty paces behind, by a candle vendor. When Jaskier chatted up a pretty young woman working for the local butcher, he watched wordlessly from afar. When he headed over to the town square to eat the fruit he bought, Geralt followed and sat in a nearby bench he hoped was far enough out of sight. 

It struck him that he didn’t actually know what Jaskier did when he wasn’t there. He knew he was a bard and that he did... bard things…? But he didn’t pretend to actually understand what that entailed. It was entirely mundane. 

“What do you want, Geralt?” Jaskier finally called out. “You’ve been practically stalking me all day.”

Not out of sight enough… but then again, it wasn’t as though he was really  _ trying _ to hide.

Geralt got up from his bench and sat next to Jaskier, leaving enough space for another person to sit between them. “Are you…” Gods, he felt ridiculous saying it out loud, even though he’d been thinking about it for days. “Are you mad at me?”

Jaskier scoffed. A small, derivative sort of snort. “Mad? No. Sad and disappointed, maybe, but not mad.”

_ Not mad. _

“Why?”

“Why am I sad and disappointed, or why am I not mad? You’ll have to be more specific, love.”  _ Shit, there he went again _ . After years of calling Geralt that, it was a tough habit to break.

Geralt cocked his head a bit at the ‘love’ so casually thrown in. “Either. Both. You should be mad at me.” Why wasn’t he mad at him?

“Well I was for at least a few hours, if that makes you feel any better.”

It did not.

“A few…” Geralt exhaled sharply. “You let yourself be angry for a  _ few hours _ ?”

“I _was_ angry for only a few hours,” Jaskier insisted. “I’m not you. I don’t do the whole ‘only allowing myself a designated amount of time dwelling on each emotion’ thing. I feel as much as I need to.”

Oh… He wasn’t wrong, but Geralt hadn’t expected that. “Regardless-” He stammered, caught off guard. “I- I yelled at you… I said-” He was having difficulty finding his words. “I said  _ awful _ things to you. There’s no way you were only angry for a  _ few hours _ . You should… I don’t know, find a better traveling companion. Someone better.”

Jaskier looked deep into his eyes.  _ Fuck _ , he was doing that thing again, where he would stare into Geralt's damn  _ soul _ and pinpoint exactly what was wrong and exactly what to do about it.

The bard’s brow furrowed in concern. “You want me to be mad at you?” His voice was small and slightly incredulous.

“I- no, I don’t-”

“You think you need to be punished. That I should just abandon you for this.”

“Jaskier, I hurt you. I don’t understand why you’re not more upset.”

“You made a mistake, Geralt. You lost your temper.”

Geralt simply stared at the floor.

“Geralt,” Jaskier asked, suddenly much softer. “Have you ever been in a fight before?”

_ What kind of- _ of  _ course _ he had been in fights, Jaskier was there for enough to know that.

Jaskier took his expression as a cue to clarify. “With a friend, I mean. One like what we had.”

The witcher shook his head. The situation suddenly became alarmingly clear. 

_ Of course he hadn’t, _ Jaskier thought. As far as he could tell, he was Geralt’s first true friend, excluding Roach, of course… and then there was Yennefer and whatever they were to each other. There was never anyone to drive off before. If this was the first time he had come close to losing a friend like that, it was no wonder he wasn’t taking it well.

“Geralt, I want you to listen to me,” he commanded, lifting Geralt’s chin so that their eyes met. “I am upset. You shouldn’t have yelled at me like that. You severely overreacted. I mean honestly, blaming me for all of your problems because I was there when they happened? I am but a simple victim of circumstance.” Geralt shifted uncomfortably, guilt painting his features. “But,” Jaskier continued. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did when you were clearly upset. I could have read the mood better and you could have reacted differently. Neither of us are innocent, and besides, it’s in the past now.”

He didn’t say it, but Geralt understood.  _ Now you just need to decide if you’re going to make up for it or not.  _ Jaskier dropped his hand, but their eyes stayed locked together.

“Jask… I-” He faltered a bit.

The bard nodded, as if to say  _ go on then, spit it out _ .

Geralt sighed, bracing himself. He was going to have to get used to this feeling, as this was to be the first of many apologies. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best friend… hell, I wasn’t even willing to call you my friend.” Jaskier smirked a little at that. They were  _ much _ more than friends, whether they gave what they had a name or not, but that was a conversation for another time. “For years, Jaskier, I-” Shit, he didn’t know what to say. “You- you’ve always been more involved than I have, and I thought it was fine, that that’s just how it was, but I didn’t consider what it must seem like to you, and I’m sorry.”

Jaskier cut him off before he could say any more. “Yes, yes, you’ve been an ass in the past, but please don’t say anymore. Hearing so much come out of you at once is throwing me off.”

“I-”

“No more profusely apologizing, Geralt. That’s an order.” That shut him up. Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the absurdity of the situation.  _ Him _ telling  _ Geralt _ to stop talking. “Now, are we going to leave while it’s still nice out or wait to get rained in another night?”

The look of relief and excitement on the other man’s face was subtle, but Jaskier knew just what to look for.

“Yes sir,” Geralt answered, and followed after his bard, confident in the fact that Jaskier was just that:  _ his _ .

**Author's Note:**

> ngl, i cranked this thing out in one sitting, and while it isn't my proudest work, i'm happy to say that i have successfully completed my first songfic. i was only planning for this to be a ~600 word drabble to post on my tumblr (@transwitcher) but... that's not what happened lol
> 
> the song i used was july by noah cyrus


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